


Gonna Write This to You in Reverse

by la_dissonance



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Bodyswap, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-16
Updated: 2011-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_dissonance/pseuds/la_dissonance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accidentally switching bodies with your bandmates is just one more thing you've got to look out for as a member of a Fueled by Ramen band. They all got the email. (AKA utter and complete crack inspired by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgKnmfYDdk0 ">this TAI TV episode</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gonna Write This to You in Reverse

**Author's Note:**

> Contains bodyswap and some body discomfort that goes along with that. Is it necessary to warn for extreme fluff? I feel it's at least polite. Many thanks to fifteendozentimes for looking this over <3

Ian had sort of thought his crush on Spencer would go away once they started playing in the same band – he knows what touring's like, a couple days of that and anyone would lose their mystique, a couple weeks and even your bandmates' most innocuous habits can have you wanting to crawl out of your skin. If anything, though, being stuck in close proximity with Spencer for weeks on end does nothing but intensify all the ridiculous high-school flavored feelings Ian has for him, and they don't abate on the next tour either.

Too bad that the longer Ian spends around these guys, the more apparent it becomes that Spencer really does have eyes only for Brendon. There's no real point in making a move, even once he's gotten over being the new guy enough to maybe work up the nerve. Ian's life is the hardest.

\--

They're halfway between Cincinnati and whatever the next city is when Ian declares his nap a lost cause and wanders into the back lounge. Brendon's passed out on the couch there, glasses askew on his face and a magazine open on his chest, and Ian moves very carefully when he steals the remote out from under Brendon's arm. People who _can_ sleep in the afternoon deserve to stay that way for as long as possible.

Ian curls himself up in the tiny corner armchair and flips through the channels, looking for something interesting. Brendon's left a partially-drunk mug of that gourmet Belgian white chocolate cocoa a fan gave them (and Zack actually said they could keep after deeming the seal on the box 100% un-tampered-with) on the table next to the couch, and it keeps drawing Ian's eye. After half a commercial break and a quickly-stifled internal battle, Ian decides he has absolutely no compunction against finishing it for Brendon and reaches for the cup. There's always more mix in the kitchenette and this cup will go cold before Brendon wakes up from his nap, he'd have to re-microwave it and that would just be gross –

The train of thought catches up with Ian about twenty seconds too late, as he's lowering the mug back to the table and wondering why his hands suddenly feel disconnected from the rest of his body. _Well SHIT_ is his last thought as his head spins and the world fades to black.

\--

Ian comes to with his face pressed into the rough upholstery of the couch, glasses digging into his temple and an unholy crick in his neck.

"Hey, we're almost in Atlanta," Spencer says, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. Aha. There would be the reason he woke up.

Ian adjusts his glasses and says something about as coherent as "Bwuh?"

"Because of your voice?" Spencer prompts.

"Ah, right. My voice." Ian struggles upright, clears his throat and hums experimentally, and yup, that's definitely Brendon's sleepy burr coming out of his mouth.

"The drivers said maybe twenty minutes if we don't hit traffic," Spencer says, showing no sign of realizing anything's out of the ordinary.

Ian frowns. "Where's....everyone else?" That seems like a safe enough question.

"Last time I saw Ian he was heading to his bunk. Zack's up front. Dallon's right there," Spencer says, gesturing to where Dallon's reading a book about three feet away. Dallon waves.

One of these days the fact that Spencer can be kind of an asshole will stop being so attractive, Ian's sure of it.

–

"Well, shit," Zack says when Ian explains the situation to him and a still-sleepy Brendon he dragged out of his bunk on the way to the front lounge.

For someone who didn't realize there was anything wrong until he was woken up two minutes ago, Brendon's handling this with remarkable equanimity. "Do we have to call Pete?"

Ian's been wondering the same thing, he's pretty sure there was something about calling Pete in the mass email that went out to the label mailing list after the first time this happened.

"First we have to get through the show that's going to start in four hours," Zack says. "If we call Pete he's just going to want to come down and gawk and like, quiz you on video for hours."

"We don't have hours," Brendon says.

"He can't just switch us _back_?" Ian squeaks. It's so weird not to be talking with his own voice, his ears keep telling him he has a nasty frog in his throat but clearing his throat – fuck, Brendon's throat – repeatedly isn't going to help.

"Don't you guys read your email?" Zack asks, exasperated. "There's no one way to undo a body swap, that's why it's so important to _avoid letting it happen in the first place_. That was the whole point of letting you all know this could happen, fuck's sake."

Brendon and Ian share a panicked look.

"Yeah," Zack says.

"So we have to...play like this," Brendon says, tone even. Ian wonders if that's how calm he sounds when he's freaking out inside or if he's just projecting.

"That's the safest bet," Zack says. "After tonight we've got 48 hours until you play again so if you get fucked up too badly switching back, at least you'll have some time to recover."

Ian gulps.

"Think you can handle meet and greet tonight?"

Brendon nods at the same time as Ian shakes his head, and Brendon gives Ian an impenetrable look that would probably be something along the lines of _Come on, seriously, bro?_ if it was on Brendon's own face. This is going to give Ian a headache.

"Fans pay for meet and greet," Brendon says. "We can't cancel it for this."

Which is a good point, but also way more noble and selfless than Ian's feeling at the moment, while his primary emotion is still _ohshitohshit_. Fucking fans. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Zack gives them a calculating look and says, "I'll call the venue and see if I can shorten the schedule any. Then I'm calling the label and asking for a raise. You two hash out any details you need to between yourselves, alright?"

"Hey, give me my phone and I'll text Spencer so he doesn't freak out," Brendon says as soon as Zack's ensconced himself in the bunk corridor with his phone.

It takes a second for Ian's brain to catch up. "Oh, right! Sorry."

Brendon's patient while Ian pries Brendon's iPhone out of the front pocket of Brendon's too-tight jeans, and seriously, how is he taking all of this so calmly? Ian's just glad he's able to _function_ , never mind be all responsible and proactive and shit.

"So, show in four hours," Ian says when Brendon's done texting Spencer and Ian's done replaying "so he doesn't freak out," in his mind and trying not to vividly imagine every scenario in which discovering it's actually Ian in Brendon's body would cause him to freak out.

"Which ones do you know all the words to? We can change up the setlist if we need to," Brendon says, wiping his palms on his pants legs.

He sounds a little nervous for the first time, which shouldn't make Ian feel better but does, and they get down to the business of figuring out how to play a show as each other without the fans noticing.

\--

The show goes phenomenally well, all things considered. Brendon knows all of Ian's guitar parts because he wrote them, and Ian's heard Brendon's between-song patter enough times now that he can replicate it pretty faithfully and ad lib what he doesn't remember off the top of his head. It's fun, even, once he stops freaking out about whether he's walking right and holding the mic in an appropriately Brendon-y way and whether the audience expects him to sing to Spencer more or less than he's already doing.

Every time Ian turns toward the drum riser is a relief, though, because Spencer gives him a reassuring smile as if to say _you're doing great, no one can tell!_ and as Spencer's the ultimate authority on Brendon, Ian's going to take it at face value. Spencer's all sweaty and _drumming_ and his smiles are sort of resplendent even when he's not trying to send self-esteem beams through the air. Ian's stomach swoops every time he so much as thinks about Spencer up there, thinking about him, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to be Brendon all the time, and how much of a bad person it makes him for sort of kind of not wanting to switch back.

"I have never felt so unloved!" Dallon protests as soon as they get off stage. He pokes Ian in the chest. "You are a _terrible_ Brendon."

"I don't know what goes on over on your side of the stage, dude! I had to make stuff up as I went along!"

"Excuses, excuses," Dallon says loftily. "You certainly played to Spencer enough. Next time I expect _kisses_ , Ian, keep this in mind."

This earns Dallon a punch in the shoulder, and oops, that's right, Ian doesn't have to aim quite as high as he usually does. He shakes out his fist where it hit the bony point of Dallon's shoulder and is saved from further teasing when Brendon takes a running leap onto Dallon's back, causing him to stagger and nearly tip over.

"Hah! I knew you only loved me for my body, you fucker," Brendon laughs, smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss into Dallon's neck.

"We have a reputation to uphold!"

"I'll show you reputation," Brendon says, sliding a hand down Dallon's chest while attaching his mouth to Dallon's neck again, and wow, that is more than a little weird to look at.

Ian quickens his pace to catch up with Spencer. He really doesn't care what Brendon does with his body as long as he doesn't have to watch it; catching glimpses of himself out of the corner of his eye like he's been doing all night is disorienting enough.

"You were great out there," Spencer says.

Ian blushes and grins despite himself. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I could never just pick up frontmanship on the fly like that, seriously, and you just jumped right in like you'd been doing it since forever." Spencer grins down at him like he's actually impressed, like he's not just humoring Ian but actually admires him or something, and Ian's stomach does a really interesting flippy thing.

"Nerves and blind luck," Ian says, hoping his voice doesn't sound as breathless as it would in his own body.

It's totally Brendon's body's fault the way he can't stop leaning in toward Spencer, some kind of muscle memory thing that long term couples must develop for each other. Ian wouldn't know; his relationships so far consist of a handful of short between-tour flings and one nominally physical long distance relationship that they'd kept up for nearly a year because it was fun and neither of them had any real reason to call it off. This whole not being able to stay away thing was Brendon's fault, because Ian had gotten that under control a long time ago, back when he was still in The Cab and realized it looked pretty creepy to always be drifting into Spencer's conversation circles uninvited whenever they were in the same room together.

"Were you going to shower? We checked out the facilities earlier while you and Brendon were warming up, they seem pretty legit," Spencer says.

"I..." Ian pauses. "I'll have to check with Brendon. I mean, I could definitely use one, but um."

Spencer shakes his head in something like awe. "This whole thing is a total mindfuck."

"Damn straight."

Brendon, of course, is fine with Ian bathing his body for him and doesn't really see why it would be an issue in the first place, but does the courtesy of reflecting the question back to Ian before he goes to shower.

"Yeah, as long as you don't – you know what, do whatever, it's not like I'll ever know." Privacy on tour is sort of a joke anyway, Brendon won't be seeing anything he hasn't seen before.

"Ditto," Brendon says, and gives Ian a little salute before disappearing into a shower stall.

\--

It's still weird enough that Ian can't do much more than turn the water on really strong and stand under the spray, soaping up his neck and under his arms but letting the water take care of everywhere else. He does look though, feeling hot shame and telling himself he's not looking for lingering marks of whatever kinky sex things Spencer might be into doing to Brendon, he's just...looking. Dude has a great body, you'd have to be blind or straight or something not to appreciate.

There are no kinky sex marks. Ian's not sure if he should be disappointed that he imagined this facet of Spencer's personality wrong or happy that he doesn't have to deal with being even more madly jealous of Brendon's sex life than he already is. They probably just haven't had a chance recently, he decides, ignoring the fact that last night was a hotel night and he knows Brendon and Spencer shared a room.

Ian walks out of the shower to see himself, stark naked and dripping wet, rooting through his backpack. Fuck, that's never not going to be the weirdest thing. Not as disorienting as looking down and seeing someone else's body attached to his neck, but still.

"Looking for something?"

Brendon looks up. "Yeah, where's that special conditioner you have? Do you use it every day, or?"

This startles a laugh out of Ian. "You're worrying about my hair care routine right now?"

"Well..." Brendon shrugs, looking at a loss.

"No, I mean, it's nice, I wouldn't have thought of it. The conditioner was in the front pocket last time I saw it, usually I just use it when I remember."

"Okay, cool," Brendon says.

"Hey, Brendon?" Ian says a few minutes later, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water. They're the only two left in the bathroom now.

"Yeah?"

"I just –" Ian closes his mouth; he has no idea what he was actually going to say. For a second he almost asks about Spencer – what Brendon and him are going to do, what any of this means for Ian – but he can't, it's too much of an unspoken subject, the words to the question Ian wants to ask are too far away. "Thanks for being so cool about all of this, I guess."

"I should be the one thanking you," Brendon says after a minute. "I feel like it's my fault; I should have just made another cup after I realized it had been in the microwave so long, I should have been thinking. But it smelled okay, and seriously, what are the chances, and – sorry."

"It's okay," Ian says.

"We'll work something out, okay?" Brendon's words are slightly muffled underneath the water. "We'll get back to normal."

\--

Back on the bus Ian plops himself down next to Dallon, who's the only safe one here, really, and snuggles into his side.

"Hey, you," Dallon says, and Ian lifts up Dallon's arm and arranges it around his shoulders when Dallon doesn't immediately ascertain the level of cuddling Ian's after, here.

"It's a good thing I swapped with someone who's mostly the same height as me," Ian says. "I don't know if I could handle all this happening and me being like, way taller than everyone else I know."

Dallon pats Ian's hair and hums in agreement. "Great height is a burden not all of us are cut out to bear, this is true."

"Shut up," Ian says, but he's smiling.

"You know what this party needs?" Spencer asks, looking up from his ipod and pulling one earbud out.

"What," Ian prompts when Spencer just lets the question hang. He doesn't point out that it's just three people sitting on couches, hardly anything that can be called a party.

"Stay right here," Spencer says, pointing at Ian and Dallon seriously. "I'll be right back."

It's only a few minutes before Spencer returns with Brendon and Zack in tow, Zack carrying a bong that's realistically the size of a small child. Spencer's expression is triumphant, and Brendon looks a lot less worn out than Ian feels, and Ian thinks that maybe this night could end up not turning out so bad after all.

"We are going to get high," Spencer proclaims unnecessarily, as if Ian and Dallon had been waiting with bated breath for him to unveil his plan since he'd left.

"So, so high," Brendon says. "Fuck, I need this."

Zack sets the bong down in the middle of the floor and tests it for balance. "Party safely, dudes."

Ian rolls his eyes. Zack is the biggest dork. They're all ridiculous dorks in this band; Ian is suddenly filled with love for everyone and he hasn't even started smoking yet.

The feeling doesn't dissipate once they've all got a few good hits in their system. "I wonder if smoking up together will make us switch back – do you think Bill and Sisky tried it that time?"

"Oh my god, we agreed to talk _not_ about body-switching anymore tonight," Brendon groans, at the same time as Dallon laughs and says "Are we talking about the same Bill and Sisky that I'm thinking of?" and Spencer sits bolt upright and says "Fuck, what if it's the opposite, what if it like, cements you into the wrong bodies or something?"

Ian meets Spencer's eyes, aghast, and then somehow the way Spencer's eyebrows are lifted up so far on his face is unspeakably _hilarious_ , and Ian breaks down laughing at them, and the absurdity of this whole ridiculous situation, how does shit like this even _happen_ to them? And Spencer's _eyebrows_.

The corner of Spencer's mouth twitches and then he's off too, infectious gales of laughter that set Ian off again as soon as he pauses for air, passing the giggles back and forth until Ian's face hurts and his sides ache.

At some point while Ian's eyes are in the process of tearing up, he catches sight of Dallon exaggeratedly looking between Spencer and Ian and putting on his best Very Concerned Headtilt. Brendon must have seen it too, because then he's joining in, high little giggles muffled by his hands.

"No but seriously though," Spencer says, once they've all managed to more or less get it together.

Ian's forgotten what they were talking about seriously before, and now Spencer's fixing him in this earnest-as-fuck gaze. "Your eyes are way too blue to be allowed," Ian says, hoping this is an appropriately earnest observation.

"Seriously. Ian. What if you never switch back?" Spencer's gripping Ian's arm now, hand warm on Ian's – Brendon's – _mindfuck!_ – bicep through his t-shirt.

"What if?" Ian asks. It seems so abstract now, a mere intellectual knot. They should stay high _always_ , and wow, there's one good way to develop a substance abuse problem.

"Well. You would be in the wrong body."

"Mm-hmm." Ian already knows this much.

"And Brendon would be inside that body," Spencer says, nodding over to where Brendon and Dallon are absorbed in a rapt discussion about something on Brendon's DS.

"Uh-huh." Ian knows this too.

"And then I would be – I'm kind of ridiculously attracted to that body, okay, but _Brendon's_ in it. And that would be a little weird for Brendon, probably. And for you. And me."

"Oh," Ian says, and then "Wow. I did not know any of that, at all."

"Sorry?" Spencer says.

"No, it's, um, you should probably know I've had a crush on you since before we even met?"

Spencer doesn't say anything, just blinks slowly, so Ian rushes on.

"It's really stupid, I know, like who even does that, but I'm pretty sure it's for real. Who knows, maybe we should make out and it'll switch Brendon and me back." Okay, that's definitely one of the worst things Ian's ever suggested.

"That is a great idea," Spencer says slowly, Ian takes it all back, this is the most awesome thing he's ever come up with, even if his head's still reeling like he lost track of the conversation several million turns ago. It'll all make sense tomorrow.

"But what if it doesn't turn you back?" Spencer asks.

"What? Why would you _say_ that?"

"Because then I would never be able to kiss you," Spencer says, sounding utterly mournful.

"You could be kissing me right now," Ian points out.

Spencer eyes him sadly. Seriously, Ian cannot and does not even want to keep up with the turns of this conversation. He wants to go back to the part where Spencer wants his body and isn't opposed to making out on the floor in the back lounge.

"We could at least try? If it's not too weird," Ian amends, glancing across the room to where Brendon's still engrossed in his game, sprawled halfway across Dallon's lap. Somewhere in the back of his mind there's an alarm bell going off, something about Brendon-and-Spencer, but he ignores it.

"Weird, but I think I can handle it," Spencer says, looking grave and mischievous and like he really wants to kiss the hell out of Ian right now. "Cross your fingers."

Fuck, he really does think this might switch them back. Ian crosses his fingers and tilts his head up and Spencer scoots over into his space, adjusts his hold on Ian's arm, and slides his mouth over Ian's parted lips. His eyes are closed, but Ian tries to keep his own open even when Spencer licks over his lower lip, his mouth so soft and warm that Ian just wants to melt into the sensation, leaning into Spencer's chest, but the angle is all wrong. He keeps his palms firmly planted on the carpet instead, carefully taking in details like eyelashes and freckles and the way Spencer sighs when he pulls away.

"C'mon," Ian says, following Spencer back. "Not yet, we gotta make sure."

"Okay," Spencer huffs out a laugh and smiles against Ian's mouth when Ian crowds him against the couch behind them, sliding his fingers into Spencer's hair and taking a self-indulgent moment to rub his face against Spencer's beard. Hell, this whole thing is self-indulgent as fuck, but Ian honestly doesn't care.

They make out lazily against the couch for a slippery, indefinite amount of time, hands staying chastely around shoulder level by unspoken agreement. Spencer's thumb drags across Ian's collarbone where the neck of his t-shirt has slipped down, and Ian whines softly into Spencer's mouth, frustrated and thrown out of the mood.

"Do that again," he says, just to be sure.

Spencer complies, with a questioning hum.

"S'too weird," Ian says, shrugging Spencer's hand off.

"What is?" Spencer doesn't let Ian pull away, just tugs him down and tucks his chin over the top of Ian's head, enclosing him in a circle of stubbly Spencer-smelling warmth.

Ian sighs and cuddles in. "That thing you did – that usually feels really good, on me, but this time it was just...nothing. I dunno. This is probably pretty weird for you, too."

Spencer's chest flexes as he shrugs. "I can't say I've gone through my entire life without ever having kissed Brendon, and this just now was... not much like that. As long as I kept my eyes shut."

"Oh," Ian says, and then " _Oh,_ " as it hits him that what Spencer just said isn't the way people usually talk about their boyfriends.

"We should get you to bed," Spencer says, and Ian can hear the smile in his voice.

"Bed's good," Ian agrees sleepily as he lets Spencer untangle them and help him to his feet. "Maybe it'll change me back."

\--

Sleeping does not switch Brendon and Ian back.

Zack calls Pete and Pete calls Gabe, who apparently knows everything there is to know about body swapping because he participates in it as a recreational activity, whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. Gabe agrees to fly down overnight and sort them out first thing the next morning, and then all there is to do is wait.

They don't have a show that day, and Ian thinks he might go mad waiting through all that dead time, because Spencer keeps _looking_ at him. Knowing that Spencer probably definitely wants to make out with him and is just waiting until he's inhabiting the right body is the worst kind of torture, because there's nothing Ian can do about it and he's 90% convinced that Spencer just decided to be attracted to him to screw with his mind, no matter how little actual sense that makes.

After an uncomfortably tense group lunch at an unremarkable diner, Ian and Brendon decide it's better for both of them if they stay out of public and away from each other until it's time to switch back. Ian's started getting an involuntary little twitch every time he looks over and sees his own face not attached to himself, and while Brendon seems better adjusted to the whole out-of-body thing (Ian totally caught him checking out his own ass on three separate occasions), he still winces in sympathy every time he sees Ian twitch.

"You guys are heading into basket case territory," Zack informs them after he gets off the phone with Gabe. "You gotta figure out a way to keep it together for one more day, alright?"

Brendon goes directly to his bunk as soon as they get back to the bus, and once again Ian finds himself bitterly envious of those with the power to take actual naps.

"Want company, or is it better if I stay away for now?" Spencer asks.

"Probably the latter," Ian says, "But I need company worse, so don't go." No one's ever actually died of sexual tension before, right?

They spend the rest of the afternoon playing Halo in the back lounge with the volume turned up loud so they don't have to talk, and occasionally Ian's able to forget for whole minutes at a time the warmth radiating from Spencer's body just a foot away on the couch and how he wants to lean into it, and how Spencer probably wants him to.

Somehow the entire afternoon passes this way, and then Dallon, who apparently left at some point, is coming back weighed down with bags of takeout and two large bottles of whiskey.

"You are a wonderful, wonderful man who deserves wonderful, wonderful things," Ian informs him, and Dallon laughs and messes up Ian's hair. "Hey!" Ian says, pushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"Just don't try and make out with me, okay?" Dallon winks.

"Ugh, that was totally different, you're not Spencer –" Ian makes flappy inarticulate hands and Dallon just laughs.

The takeout is delicious and the whiskey gets them drunk and no one makes out with anyone. Ian can feel Spencer's eyes on him all night and it makes him squirm, but not as much as when Spencer finally gets totally wasted and starts looking at Brendon instead, which, okay. Ian understands, he does, it's a hard enough thing to wrap your mind around sober, but that doesn't mean his stomach stops clenching up painfully whenever he catches one of those hungry looks directed at Brendon-in-Ian's-body. He ends up going to bed first, head swimming. The sooner this is over, seriously.

\--

Zack wakes Ian and Brendon up at buttcrack o'clock saying to haul their asses out to the parking lot where Gabe's waiting. Gabe takes seriously one look at them, then makes them do a move Ian had previously though only possible for breakdancers. It involves a lot of stretching and holding hands and being way too upside down for the amount of hungover that Ian is right now.

They manage to maintain the tremendously precarious center of gravity for about as long as it takes for all the blood in Ian's body to rush to his head before they both go toppling down, and when they pick themselves back up suddenly everything's right again.

Ian staggers to his feet, feeling like he's catching his balance for the first time in days, and gingerly brushes gravel out of the scrapes on his own palms. It's seriously the best feeling in the world.

"That's...it?" Ian asks, glancing over at Gabe for confirmation.

"If you weren't done yet, you can always swap back," Gabe says, flashing a toothy grin. "I could help you arrange that."

"Don't you dare," Zack says.

"No thanks," Brendon says, his laugh a bit shaky as he takes a joking step back. He sounds reassuringly Brendon-like again.

"Thanks for coming down and fixing this, though," Ian says. "It's great to be back."

Brendon catches his eye and flashes him a grin at the same time as Dallon and Spencer emerge from the bus, blinking in the early morning light. Gabe gives them the thumbs up and then they're whooping and rushing them and everyone's hugging everyone all at once and jumping up and down and it's _great,_ Ian has never felt so awesome in his life.

Spencer fights through the tangle of arms to Ian and swoops him up by the waist, spinning him around and nearly taking out both Zack's kneecaps in the process. Ian can't stop laughing and neither can Spencer, and when Spencer sets him down his hands don't leave Ian's waist and Ian's breath catches slightly.

"Hey," he says, still grinning like a doofus.

"Hey, hey," Spencer says, smiling back. "So I realize I probably should have said this way earlier, but I've noticed the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention and it's really fucking hot. Just for the record."

Ian's chest is doing stupid fluttery things and he feels his face heating up, so he tugs Spencer down to kiss him before he loses his nerve. Then of course he loses it anyway and laughs right against Spencer's lips, ruining the kiss before it even starts. Ian buries his face against Spencer's neck and just breathes in his smell.

"So it took the threat of me being stuck in Brendon's body forever for you to finally make a move, huh?"

"Well," Spencer says, stepping back so he can look Ian in the eye, "I got a little worried that I was misreading everything, so."

"You are exactly as bad at this as I am," Ian crows delightedly. "And shut up, that's totally a good thing."

"I – okay," Spencer says, grinning and brushing a piece of dry grass off Ian's arm.

They haven't been able to stop touching yet, still too happy-tense to settle but hungry for those little points of contact, and it occurs to Ian that they're out in a relatively public space, in a commuter lot next to the highway, and Gabe and Zack and the rest of their band are right there, probably watching. An appreciative catcall from Dallon confirms this suspicion.

"How about we take this back to the bus?" Ian asks, leaning into Spencer's space on the balls of his feet. "I know of a couch that's pretty empty right now and I believe I owe you a proper makeout."

"Sounds like a plan," Spencer says, and when his smile makes Ian think predictably dirty thoughts, he does nothing to stifle them.


End file.
